A Break
by klained
Summary: A few brief looks at Sansa and Sandor's relationship in the modern world.
1. Breaking Free

Sansa sighed as she parked in front of the gym. Private self defense classes were more Arya's thing. Why couldn't her father just hire a bodyguard like Joff's dad did? Then Arya can take her stupid karate classes and she can go shopping or spend more time with Joffrey. Instead, she was stuck at a tiny gym in a strip mall with her sister. She gave a quick, silent prayer for the instructor to be cute. If that didn't work maybe she could flirt her way out of this

Her disappointment knew no bounds when she opened the door to see the burned and scarred face of Sandor Clegane, Joffrey's bodyguard, standing behind the counter. Arya pushed past her and stopped at the sight of him as well.

"What are you doing here, dog? Don't you have that stupid boy to baby-sit?" she taunted.

"Arya!" Sansa gasped. "That isn't nice!" She didn't want to admit she felt the same way. "Why are you here, Mr. Clegane?"

He rolled his eyes. "This is my brother's gym. Your father wants you to take self defense, it's my day off from Joff, figure it out," he growled.

The girls followed him to a corner of the gym, Arya already stretching and limbering up. Sansa decided to try flirting anyways. When she hit puberty, none of the boys at school refused her anything. At 21 she had learned to use that to her favor as much as possible. She just hoped he was straight.

Tiny little Arya threw herself into the training. After years of playing sports and learning martial arts, she was able to quickly pick up everything the trainer showed them. The dummy they trained against was beaten and battered, flipped over and kicked. When Sansa's turn came she tried every trick in the book. She flipped her hair, looked up through her lashes, stuck out her chest (not easy in a sports bra), and sashayed up to the dummy. His grey eyes watched her, a frown on the good side of his face.

Damn it, he's supposed to like this!

Frustrated, she hit the dummy. The flesh didn't give for her as easily as for Arya and with a resounding smack, she was left with a stinging hand and a bruised ego. Her sister burst into wild giggles and even Mr. Clegane tried to suppress a smile. Sansa blinked back the tears and hit it again. Her shoulder jarred when her fist came to a sudden stop on the dummy. She tried punching with her other hand and her thumb was pinched against her knuckles. Her next swing was stopped by a large hand on her wrist.

"That's enough," Mr. Clegane rumbled, not unkindly. He motioned them back to the front desk. "You," he pointed to Arya, "don't really need training. Keep up your practice. You," he pointed to Sansa, "need more training. I'm going to credit your father's deposit for your sister into your account. I have an opening in a couple of days to train you further."

"I have a date." Sansa refused to look at him or Arya for laughing at her.

"I know. I work that night. I meant afterwards. When Joff's done with you, I'll bring you back here for a while, and then take you home."

She just nodded, still trying to keep the tears at bay. It wasn't until she was home and in bed that she finally cried about making herself look so foolish.

On the night of her date with Joffrey, Sansa picked her sexiest outfit in a last-ditch effort to get out of self defense training with his Hound. Maybe she could distract him with cleavage, long legs, and a short skirt. Or he would cancel training because she wasn't dressed for it. She did her best to ignore her father's disapproving look on her way out the door when the car finally showed up.

Most of the night was spent listening to Joff talk about himself and being ogled. Mr. Clegane, however, took one look at her when she stepped out of the house then didn't look her way again. As planned, when the date was over, Joff was taken home and she was taken to the gym. Her hands twisted in her lap, trying to think of some other way to get out of this if he wouldn't even look at her. The darkness of the parking lot and the gym caught her by surprise.

"It's closed."

"I know." He jangled his keys after killing the engine. "But your father's paying a lot of money for you to learn to protect yourself. Come on."

Once inside she stood by the door as it was looked behind her and lights turned on. When motioned to, she followed to the same corner of the gym as before.

"I'm not very athletic," she tried. "Arya's always been the sporty one…"

"Would you let a man just rape you because you're not very athletic?"

"Well…no," she said.

"And you shouldn't. You're not some delicate little bird and it doesn't take much to protect yourself. You just need to know what you're doing." He shifted the dummy to the center of the floor. "How easily can you take off your shoes?" Without thinking, she balanced on one foot, raised her other leg, and slipped off her shoe. "Try hitting the dummy with the heel of your shoe." She swung her arm as hard as she could. The force of impact knocked it from her hand and almost back into her face. "Ok, maybe depending on your arm a little less."

"How am I supposed to hit him if I don't use my arm?" she retorted.

He picked up her shoe. "Watch me," he directed, then slowly hit the dummy square on the nose. "Do you see how I use my whole body and not just my arm?"

"Listen, Mr. Clegane…" she started.

"Sandor. Or Hound."

"Um, Sandor, listen, I'm never going to get this. Wouldn't it just be easier for you to take the money, I pretend to come to class, and in a few weeks you just tell my father that I'm hopeless and recommend I get a bodyguard? I mean, we can afford it, really."

"I'm not going to cheat your father out of his money. I shouldn't have to remind you how much you need this."

Sansa flinched, remembering the week before. She had been hanging out with Joffrey and his friends and drinking. Joff dared one of the other guys to jump off the roof of the house and into the pool. When she had interjected, trying to convince them all it was dangerous, she had been rewarded with a punch to the gut. When she kept arguing the boys had knocked her down and started kicking her until she couldn't talk anymore. She lifted her chin defiantly and kicked off her other shoe.

The next few hours were the most physically intense of her life. She found herself hitting and kicking the dummy almost as hard as her sister could. As she learned new moves, Sandor would have her start slowly, gently correcting her posture and actions to do the most damage with the least amount harm to herself. At times, when she just couldn't seem to get the power she needed, Sandor would stand behind her, hands guiding her hips as she swung her fist. She was actually disappointed when he released his warm, gentle grip and had her try on her own.

It seemed like only minutes had passed when a stop to the night had been called. Sansa didn't have the energy to put her shoes back on, so carried them to the front desk to make arrangements for her other private classes. She finally slipped them back on in the car as they drove silently back to her house. When he got her home, she could only shyly thank him for the ride and the lesson before making her way to the door.

Over the next few weeks, Sansa trained with Sandor, often after her dates. In time, he began to don padding and have her defend herself against him. While she grew more confident in fighting him off, she also hated pushing his warm arms away. She found herself giving momentary half-hearted struggles before properly breaking away just to feel him hold her a little longer. If he knew what she was doing he never said.

During her dates with Joff, however, Sandor was often watching her. Sansa was starting to be pressured constantly to have sex with Joffrey, something she would have gladly done when they started dating. Now, though, she grew more and more uncomfortable alone with him as he frequently took out his anger physically on her.

One night they were cuddled on the couch to watch a movie, Sandor in the next room over to give them privacy. While she was content to sit quietly and enjoy the film, Joff's hands kept roaming her body. First he would reach for her breast, then between her legs, then tucking her hair behind her shoulder. Each time, Sansa would push his hands away and ask him to stop and each time he pressed further. She squealed in surprise when he pushed her to her back and pinned her arms.

"Shut up, you stupid girl," Joff sneered. "I'm horny and you're gonna give it to me. I'm tired of waiting."

When he brought his head close, Sansa raised hers and head butted him, then quickly kneed him in the groin. While he was surprised, she pushed him onto the floor, punched him in the jaw, and gave him one more kick to the groin. She started to run out of the room before being stopped by the Hound. With one look, though, he had her by the wrist and pulling her out the door and into the car.

"You did good," Sandor rumbled from the driver seat.

"Oh, gods, I'm so sorry." She felt her hands start to shake.

"I'm sure he deserved it." One of his massive hands covered hers, stilling her. "Do you want to go home?"

She found stroking his knuckles with her thumb helped to sooth her. "Not yet. I just… need… to be away from him."

Sandor glanced at her through the dark and nodded. "We can go to the gym. Get some of that extra adrenaline out."

"I'd like that," she whispered.

Once they were inside and the lights on, Sansa charged to sparring dummy, hitting it with all her might. Within moments she felt Sandor gently wrap his arms around her from behind, holding her, and she realized she had been screaming at the dummy and crying. He didn't say anything, just let her cry. All her frustrations came out, all of Joffrey's hits, all his snide comments, his inappropriate touches, every bit of discomfort he forced her through, all came out in her tears. Her knees gave out and they sank to the floor together.

"Fuck him," he growled as Sansa began to calm. She giggled weakly.

"Thank you." She twisted in his arms and kissed his burned cheek, his jaw, his lips.

Sandor groaned as he broke away. "I should get you home."

"Not yet," she murmured as her eyes flitted shut. Her hand caressed the smooth burns as she leaned in for another kiss.

His arms tightened around her waist and he pulled her close as the kiss deepened. She tentatively licked his lips, and tasted him as his own delved into her mouth. Sansa smiled and pressed closer. While one hand slipped behind his head and tangled in his hair, the other slid down to his chest, fisting in his shirt. She felt the tension building around her opening as the kiss continued. She reached for the hem of Sandor's shirt and started to pull it up before his hand stopped her.

"This isn't a good idea," he said, grey eyes locked with her blues.

"I want to," she breathed. "I want you. Forget him."

He studied her a moment longer, as if looking for something, before pulling her fully into his lap and kissing her deeply again. His growing hard-on nestled against her core as she straddled him. She shifted closer and they both groaned at the friction. His mouth dipped to her neck and suckled against her pulse point. Sansa sighed and her head dropped back, giving him better access. One large, callused hand slid under her shirt and cupped her breast. Sandor's other hand rested between her shoulder blades, holding her against him. She tangled her fingers back into his hair, holding him to her throat as his teeth continued to graze before his tongue soothed. When his thumb and finger gently pinched her nipple through the fabric of her bra, she found herself grinding against him again.

"I've wanted you so long, little bird," he moaned into her throat. The hand under her shirt slid around and unhooked her bra. "Tell me to stop. I don't deserve you."

Sansa pulled her shirt and bra off. "Don't stop," she demanded.

Her kiss was equally demanding. Sandor was happy to surrender to it before laying her down on the mat. Her hair fanned into a fiery crown around her head. He took a second to admire her pale skin before kissing his way across her shoulders, collarbone, breasts, and down her stomach. She had never felt so worshipped, as if she was his personal goddess. Distractedly, she tried to pull his shirt over his head. He gave a rough chuckle as he pulled away and removed it himself. Before he could cover her again, Sansa held out her arms, dragging her nails through the thick, wiry hairs of his chest. The burns on his face continued down to his shoulder and part of his chest. Thick, scarred-over gashes also broke up the symmetry of his muscles. It was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

Sandor uncomfortably looked away from her. "I can still stop," he growled. "I know I'm not what you were hoping for."

She sat up and kissed his jaw, bits of beard tickling her lips and nose. "Don't say that. I can kick your butt if you say anything against yourself again."

He chuckled. "Oh? You think you can take me?"

"I do," Sansa teased back.

In a blink, he had her pinned to the mat. "And how would you get out of this?" His eyes rolled back and head dropped when she wrapped her legs around his waist and they ground against each other again. "No more teasing," he growled.

He pulled away again and unfastened her shorts. With a quick tug he pulled off her shorts and panties, knocking her shoes away at the same time. His large hands rubbed up her thighs and grabbed her hips to pull her closer. His hands stroked along her thighs, his thumbs grazing her outer lips. The tantalizing sensation caused her to moan for more and Sansa bucked against him.

Sandor held one hip still as he continued to graze her labia, slowly delving deeper. When he reached her clit, she forcefully thrust into his hand. After one more stroke he slid down, dipping the tip of his finger into her wet core. When he added a second finger, she groaned.

"I thought you said no more teasing," she panted, face flushing.

She reached between them and undid his fly before pulling out his hardness. The smooth skin slid easily under her hand as she stroked his hardened shaft. He groaned and ducked his head to her shoulder, burned side away from her. He thrust twice into her hand before gently brushing it away and guiding himself to her entrance. Sandor raised himself onto his elbow and watched her from the corner of his eye. Though her face didn't display any sort of desire to stop, he still hesitated. Sansa turned his head square with hers. Whilst kissing him soundly, she took his hand and guided him home.

Her moan came out like a sigh as he stretched and filled her. He started to pull away, mistakenly thinking it was a sign of displeasure. She quickly wrapped her legs around him and pulled him back, causing another thrust. This time they both moaned. Sandor returned to her shoulder, peppering her with kisses as he slowly ground into her. Sansa held onto his shoulders, nails slowly scratching down his back. She moaned for more as she met his thrusts and they were soon both groaning as their bodies slapped together. She clutched him desperately, nails digging more deeply into his shoulders.

Her muscles began twitching as she neared her climax. Sandor slipped his hand to her clit and rubbed circles until she cried out and squeezed around him. He stroked through her orgasm until he couldn't contain himself any longer. He pounded into her until his own peak and he spent inside her. He kept his head down, panting, struggling for breath.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I couldn't stop."

"It's alright," Sansa replied calmly. "I'm on the pill. It's fine, I'm glad, I didn't want you to stop."

Sandor slowly withdrew his softening penis. The contrast of her soft, nude beauty against his rough muscles and clothed legs brought him sharply back to the present. He pulled away quickly, forcing himself to look anywhere but at her as he fastened his fly.

"We shouldn't have done this," he growled. "This is not what your father is paying for." He closed his eyes, disgusted with himself. "This is not what Joff is paying for."

Sansa pulled her shirt on before sitting up and reaching for his hand. "Fuck Joff. I should have broken up with him a long time ago. As for my father," she hesitated. "Do you still want me? Want to be with me?" At his silent nod she kissed the palm of his hand. "We'll figure out a way to make it work." She stood, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I meant it when I said I want you."

He turned to her, his grey eyes hooded and watching her. Finding what he was looking for, Sandor wrapped her in a hug and rested his chin on her head. "I don't know what you see in an old dog, little bird, but yeah, we'll figure it out."


	2. Final Exams

Sansa groaned and dropped her head to her desk. Try as she might, she still couldn't figure out the difference between Skinner's box and Pavlov's dogs. One was about training intelligence and the other was forced learning. Or was it the other way around? Or neither? Her Psychology final was in the morning and so far it looked like she wasn't going to pass.

A pair of large, callused hands rested on her shoulders, thumbs starting to rub the tension out. Her exasperation turned into a happy moan as her stress headache lessened.

"I hate Psych," she said, voice muffled by her book. "I hate this class, I hate these theorists, I hate this school for making me take it. I just want to drop out."

Sandor chuckled behind her. "And what would you do to pay the rent, little bird?"

She thought for a moment, drawing a blank. "Strip?"

He laughed outright and his hands from her shoulders to around her waist, blanketing her. "Not a chance. I'm too selfish to share you." He kissed her temple. "I guess you just have to study." He glanced at her book. "Huh, conditioning." His teeth grazed the nape of her neck. "My favorite."

"I don't get it." She moaned as his tongue licked, then lips sucked the juncture with her shoulder. "Stop, I need to study."

"So study." He moved to the other side of her neck. "Don't mind me." He pulled her to him. "Book's right there." His thumb grazed the underside of her breast as he continued to lick and nip her throat and shoulders. His beard ghosted over her skin.

"You're distracting me."

"I'm conditioning you to like Psychology." His hand cupped her breast, while the other drifted down to her thigh.

"I hate you," she sighed softly, closing her eyes in pleasure.

"No, you don't."

"No, I don't." She opened her eyes and started over on the segment about the dogs.

"Read it out loud." The hand on her thigh slowly pulled her hem up, exposing her soft skin. His kisses continued on any bit of flesh he could reach from behind her.

"During a study on digestion, Ivan Pavlov found that when dogs encountered food they started to salivate. This was necessary to make the food easier to swallow. He set out to study why the animals also salivated when the proper stimulus, food, was not present."

Sandor's hand started to knead her breast through her nightshirt. The other rested at the inside of her thigh.

"When no food was in sight, the dogs still salivated at the sight of his assistants' lab coats."

His hand slid up her thigh, resting just beside her panties. Her breath hitched in anticipation.

"Every time the dogs were served food, the assistance where wearing lab coats and, thus, had learned to equate the coats with food."

The hand on her thigh finally came to rest between them, gently stroking the outside of her underwear. He growled into her neck at the bit of dampness he found.

"Pavlov then conducted experiments in which a bell was rung each time the dogs were fed."

Sandor squeezed her breast before moving to the other, still rubbing between her thighs.

"Over time the dogs came to equate the bells with food and would salivate when a bell was rung and no food was present."

He dipped his hand inside her panties, finger dipping between her folds. Sansa moaned and bucked into the pleasure, then whimpered when he pulled away.

"Keep studying, little bird." His voice had grown huskier with his own arousal.

"Through these experiments, Pavlov found reflexes could be taught, or conditioned, through repeated exposure to the conditioned stimulus (the bell) and unconditioned stimulus (the food) simultaneously."

Rather than returning to their original positions, Sandor's hands started tugging and pulling at the hem of her nightshirt until she was no longer sitting on it. Both hands tucked underneath to fondle her breasts as his lips returned to her throat.

"As important as the conditioning, is the principle of extinction."

One hand slid down her stomach and back into her panties while the other continued to pinch and roll her nipples.

"This is when an established conditioned response decreases in occurrence when a conditioned stimulus is continuously presented without the unconditioned stimulus."

He slipped one finger back between her folds and dipped inside. He spread the wetness back up to her clitoris and circled it in increasingly smaller spirals.

"Pavlovian conditioning has many applications, including, but not limited to, the treatment of phobias."

She bucked again but continued reading.

"The patient is first taught relaxation techniques. Over time, the patient is gradually exposed to the negative stimulus, first through thought, then gradually more direct exposure, while using the techniques to inhibit the fear-induced anxiety."

Two fingers entered her this time, pumping a few times before returning to rub her clit. The book went fuzzy and Sansa panicked.

"Um… the patient is gradually exposed to the negative-"

"You read that already." His fingers continued to pump into her vagina before pulling back to rub her clitoris again.

"In the end, the patient is systematically desensitized to the stimulus."

Sandor's hand began to move faster as she neared the end of the passage.

"As much of learned human behavior is conditioned, application can be exploited in other forms including advertising."

His hands grew rougher, squeezing more tightly, rubbing more firmly.

"Now tell me about Skinner," he said. His voice was strained, needy.

"Reward to reinforce desired behavior," she panted. "Punish to negatively reinforce undesired behavior."

"And which theory am I using on you?"

"Skinner. You're rewarding me for studying."

Sandor pulled back and Sansa whimpered at the loss. Suddenly, he grabbed her around the waist and plopped her on the desk. In less than a heartbeat, he pushed the chair away and held her face with both hands, planting a deep kiss on her lips. Sansa pulled him close, clutching and digging her nails into his back in desperation for relief. As they kissed, his hands dropped back to the hem of her nightshirt, this time pulling it all the way up. He broke away for a second to pull it over her head and throw the shirt. His hands slid over her body as he kissed her mouth, her throat, her clavicle, her breasts.

"Fuck me," she sighed.

He gave her another deep kiss before pulling off his pajama pants. Sansa quickly removed her panties before he returned to her. Rather than kissing her again, Sandor simply rested his forehead to hers, hands on her hips.

"Are you sure? We can stop, I would understand."

Sansa gently stroked the old burns across the side of his face, her free hand threading through his chest hair. "Have I ever not been sure? I love you. Now reward me for studying, Mr. Skinner."

Sandor growled happily and kissed her. After pulling her to the edge of the desk, he carefully aligned his cock and thrust fully into her. Sansa moaned and rocked against him, impatient for more stimulation. He buried his face into her neck and began thrusting at a quick pace. One hand dropped between them and his thumb stroked her clitoris in time to his hips. She clutched and held him, trying to be closer to him, to be part of him and have him part of her. With a cry, she shattered. Sandor thrust once, twice, thrice more and spent himself, sighing into her shoulder.

They held each other close, breathing heavily, for a few minutes, until Sandor pulled back and gently kissed Sansa's forehead.

"I like your method of studying. Do you think you can help me with Sociology tomorrow?"

He roared with laughter. "Yes, little bird, I can help you study Sociology tomorrow."


	3. A Break from Reading

"What are you reading?" Sandor asked when he walked into the room. Without a word, Sansa held up her book for him to see the title while she remained curled in the corner of the couch. "Why are you reading that?"

"I wanted to see what the big deal was."

"And?"

Disgusted, she bookmarked her page and set the book to the side. "The writing is atrocious. The relationship is emotionally abusive. The sex resembles rape way too closely."

He picked it up and studied the back. "Isn't it about BDSM?"

"Margery says that's _not_ BDSM."

Sandor quirked his one good eyebrow. "The fuck does perfect little Margery Tyrell know about BDSM?"

Sansa felt her face warm but stood her ground. "Anyways, real BDSM is all about consensual acts and mutual gratification but almost everything that guy does is for himself and the girl already said she doesn't want or doesn't like. He's doing all kinds of things without her consent… It's really rapey."

Sandor blinked, momentarily taken aback. "And _how_ do you know this?" He smirked at her reddening face. He knew she hated it, thought at twenty one she should be grown up enough to control it, but he still thought it was fucking adorable. Sandor dropped the book to the coffee table, the spine making a loud clunk before it flopped over with a thud.

"I, um, I looked it up. Online. I was curious."

He sat beside her, watching her eyes. When was she so curious? With whom? "Have you tried it?" He felt relieved when she shook her head. He knew her ex had been physically abusive. He didn't like the thought of his little bird trying something so intense with that asshole. Sandor smirked. "What would you say if I told you your old dog of a boyfriend used to be into some kinky shit?"

Sansa sat up, crossing her legs under her. "Really?" Sandor's nod had her anxiously biting her lip. "Can you teach me?" Her face felt on fire as he stared at her, mouth open. "I mean, if you want," she stammered.

Sandor lunged, claiming her mouth with his as one hand held the back of her head and the other grasped her waist. His smart, beautiful, perfect little bird wanted _him_ to show her bondage? She trusted him that much?

"Ground rules," he panted as he broke of the kiss, not wanting to get carried away. "Is there anything you know you don't want?" He watched her think a moment.

"Don't break the skin. No knives." She glanced at the off color skin on the left of his face where the grafts had covered his burns.

"No fire," Sandor supplied. "Safe word?" He smirked when she told him her choice. "I'll go slow, tell you what I'm going to do so you have a chance to change your mind. Only use the safe word if you really want me to stop." Sansa nodded in understanding. "Wanna try now?"

Sansa enthusiastically wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Okay."

Reluctantly, he pulled away. "I need to dig some things out. Get undressed and meet me in the bedroom." He grinned as she went bounding off, yanking her shirt over her head.

A few minutes later, he found her standing in the middle of the bedroom in mismatched bra and panties, hands clasped in front of her. She was shifting her weight from foot to foot, clearly nervous. Sandor dumped everything on the bed, not wanting to get distracted.

"Underwear, too," he ordered as he untangled the mess.

Sansa shivered but obeyed. The only time she ever heard him have that rasp in his voice was during sex. She felt a heavy throb and a bit of moisture building. Her eyes stayed riveted to the things he had pulled out, though. The first thing he was able to extract was a chain. His burning grey eyes met hers with an intensity she had only ever seen glimpses of.

"Remember when you asked what that was for?" he asked as he pointed above her head. Sansa tried to process the seeming change in subject as she looked up.

The chain got hooked to the loop and the ends dangled just above her. Sandor winked at her. This time she followed him to the bed and looked at everything. A pair of green, leather wrist cuffs sat beside what looked like a riding crop, both pieces tangled in the ends of… something. Sansa picked up the unfamiliar piece. The black leather handle was a little too big around to grip comfortably, but just long enough to hold with two hands. A spray of leather straps hung from the end of it. She saw that's where the biggest tangle was, the straps twisted and knotted around a matching blue piece that had heavy rings at the tips.

"Flogger," Sandor supplied. He worked at the knots. "Also, a mess. This is why you take care of your shit."

Sansa knew the last part was at himself. He rarely put things away, preferring to just toss it to the side until he needed it later. She set the handle – flogger – down and picked up one of the cuffs. While the outside was leather and studded, the inside was lined with a soft fur. The closure was a buckle, with a d-ring next to the buckle. The other cuff was exactly the same, save for a snap hook in the ring. Sandor's warm hand at the small of her back startled her back to him.

"It's so fucking hot having you play with my toys." He turned her to face him, still holding onto his restraint. "We don't have to do this; I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want. But fuck…" He glanced down. The fur lining of the cuff was brushed against Sansa's nipple, which was starting to peak. Sandor kissed her deeply before holding her at arm's length. "I'm serious, we don't have to do this."

"I want to." Sansa knew she sounded breathless. She had felt how much he wanted it when he held her, but seeing how weak he was for her when she was only looking at the toys had her curious for more.

Sandor dropped his hands from her and stood up straight. He took the wrist cuff from her. "I'm going to chain you up. You'll be able to move a bit, but not leave. Remember your safe word?" She nodded. "Don't be afraid to use it if you need to."

He slowly buckled one and then the other to her wrists. She didn't fidget with them beyond examining how the dyed green leather looked against her pale skin. When both were on, he used the clip to hook her wrists together in front of her and led her to the chain hanging from the ceiling. He used the opposite end of the clip to attach her to the chain, hands above her head.

For a moment, Sandor simply admired his handiwork. The flush from Sansa's face trailed down to the tops of her breasts. Her stomach was pink and pale as her arms and legs. She had recently gotten a wax and she was bare between her thighs, the creamy lips looking inviting. He wanted nothing more than to press his lips there, to bury himself between her thighs. But she had asked him to teach her about his "kinky shit." Suddenly his tee-shirt was too warm.

He turned as he pulled off his shirt and heard Sansa's soft moan behind him. Sandor smirked, knowing she loved to look at him as much as he loved to look at her, though he never understood why. While her skin was perfect and flawless, his was not, covered in the evidence of a hard life getting into fights and barely surviving some of them. To distract himself, he picked up one of the floggers, the black one. She was just starting and he didn't want to scare her with more than she could handle.

"I'm going to use this." He turned back and saw her blue eyes glittering. "It will hurt."

He slowly circled around her, softly flicking her thighs and stomach with the tips of the flogger. At her back, he slowly swung his arm so the tips gently caressed her. On the return trip he swung a little harder and heard the tap of each strand making contact and then scraping against her skin. He saw her impatiently shift from one foot to the other so his third stroke was the real one. The leather cracked against Sansa's shoulder blade and she gasped. Before she could recover, a second stroke landed on the other side. Sandor studied the two pink splotches. He knew he was being relatively gentle, but the color rising on her skin was still a sight to behold.

"More?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Yes please, sir." She was just being cute, using manners that annoyed him, but the honorific went straight to his groin. At this rate he was going to cum in his pants like a incompetent kid.

He lashed her again, lower and harder. The thongs started to make individual red stripes and Sansa moaned. He hadn't been prepared for that. It was the same fucking sound she made when he entered her. He swung again and was encouraged by a throaty "oh." He varied the speed and power of his strokes, sometimes fast and hard as her skin pinked and reddened, sometimes slow and gentle as the flogger caressed the marks. Sandor listened carefully to each of her moans and cries. He memorized each one, learned what had her squirm closer and what made her flinch away. Soon she was dancing into each swing, singing at each stroke. Her skin burned when he touched it. And not once asking him to stop.

Stepping partially around her to hit a new angle, Sandor saw her face for the first time. Her jaw was relaxed, mouth open in a silent "o" and beads of sweat dotted her brow. Her breathing was shallow and through her mouth. The hit of a tear leaked from her closed eye and her skin was bright as her hair. She looked on the verge of an orgasm.

"I'm going to make you scream and then I'm going to fuck you until you cum again," he growled close to her ear. Sansa whimpered.

In two swift strokes, she fulfilled his promise. Arms tensing and knees weak, Sansa let out a loud, desperate scream, unable to take more. Everything released inside of her, a sense of euphoria unlike anything she had every experienced. Her mind had gone blank save for one word, repeating over and over. _Fuck_. Tears fell from her eyes, cooling her cheeks, but she hardly felt it, feeling so far away from everything. _Fuck_.

A touch on the burning of her back slowly brought her back. She was on the floor, resting on her knees and elbows. Her hands were splayed in front of her, still in the cuffs but no longer bound to each other. The second half of Sandor's promise came back to her. _Fuck_. Her breathing nearly returned to normal, she felt the long, slow slide of his penis entering her. Sansa rested her forehead to the floor and moaned. _Fuck_. He felt different from when they made love, but still as good. _Fuck_.

Sandor pulled his cock out and slammed back in again. She was so fucking wet, so fucking turned on. From behind, he could only see her back and her head, her hair draped over her face. He tightly held her hip with one hand as the other trailed down her spine. The fire in the caress had Sansa bucking back against him. The strength of the response nearly threw him off, but he righted himself. Tightening the hold on her hip, he grasped her shoulder as well, the heel of his hand resting on her shoulder blade and the reddest spot on her. Her moans and sighs nearly matched the noises she had been making before. Restraint gone, Sandor slammed his cock into her again and again.

Too tired to cry out, Sansa shuddered and gasped her second release just before Sandor stilled above her. His lips were careful as he pressed a kiss to her back before gingerly turning her to lay on her side. Sansa's heart raced and she took several breaths to try to steady her breathing. She smiled at Sandor walking to her naked, carrying a pillow. Her whole body felt heavy as he lifted her head to rest the pillow under her. For a moment they merely lay looking at each other, Sandor gently pushing her hair back from her face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, tired.

"Yeah," she whispered.

"How's your back?"

Sansa focused on it, trying to decide. "Tingles."

"I'm going to get something for it. Wait here." Sandor kissed her chastely before rising and leaving the room. Sansa carefully rolled over to watch the door and smiled at his return. "Take these. It'll help with the pain." He handed her two ibuprofens and a glass of water. She swallowed the medicine. "Finish the water." She did. "Roll on your stomach. I'm going to rub on some lotion." Though her back still tingled, Sansa sighed into his careful touch. "I have to ask, why did you choose that as your safe word?"

She smiled. "Are you the only one allowed to say 'little bird'?" In answer, Sandor kissed her spine and lay down beside her again. His eyes were serious as he studied her.

"How was your lesson?"

Sansa's smile grew. "I liked it. I want to do it again sometime."

Sandor smiled crookedly in return. "Then sometime we will."

They kissed one last time before both nodded off for a nap.


End file.
